


Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Our Stories?

by cywscross



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Kurosaki Ichigo, Character Death, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Quincy Traditions, Sick Character, Sick Ichigo, UraIchi Week 2018
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cywscross/pseuds/cywscross
Summary: Kurosaki Ichigo is his mother’s son, her favourite child. She has never denied it, and he has never doubted it.She dies too early, but she kept almost no secrets from him, even if it meant keeping secrets from her husband, and so Ichigo knows what really kills her when both their weapons disintegrate in their hands while confronting a Hollow on their way home.He knows he’s been handed a death sentence, and a part of him wishes he could’ve simply died with his mom.But the world isn’t done with him yet, and Ichigo’s never been one to give up without a fight.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 한국어 available: [Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Our Stories?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15439428) by [Orange11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orange11/pseuds/Orange11)



> For Day 3 of UraIchi Week 2018. My last contribution - it's late, and I'm still working on it, but on the bright side, I have three chapters finished and I'm working on the fourth. Hopefully I'll get the whole thing done by the end of this week.

 

For the first eight years of his life, Kurosaki Ichigo grows up listening to tales of Quincy and Shinigami and Hollows, of humans and gods and monsters.

It is his legacy, and as soon as he can understand, Masaki begins telling him their history, their legends, their power and prejudice, their rise and fall.

All the good and all the bad. She leaves nothing out.

She isn’t stupid, or oblivious, no matter what Isshin and that shopkeeper friend of his seem to think. She knows they have plans for Ichigo, and dangerous plans at that, if the satisfaction on Isshin’s face and the unreadable one on Urahara’s upon sensing just how much reiryoku Ichigo is born with are anything to go by.

She can’t stop them. She doesn’t know how. She’s afraid of confronting them because while she knows she can probably overpower her husband, she’s under no delusions that Urahara is far out of her league, in both strength and intellect. What if he comes up with a way to wipe her memories if she lets on that she suspects something? What if they take her son away from her? What if they kill her? She knows Urahara would do it, if she gets in the way of whatever his end game is, and while Isshin professes - constantly and dramatically - his love for her on a daily basis, she doesn’t know if he’ll turn on her too if she proves to be too much trouble to keep around.

(She never married Isshin out of love. She’s fond of him, sometimes, when his antics make her laugh, and he’s charming on occasion when he tries extra hard to be romantic and she forgets how she came to be his wife, not to mention her relationship with him is a nice big fuck-you to the Quincy inbreeding that her blood family is so proud of. Not to mention she’ll always be grateful that he - and Urahara - prevented her death by that Hollow. She saved him first, but no matter his ulterior motives, he still sealed off his Shinigami powers and left Soul Society behind in order to keep her alive.

But she doesn’t _love_ him. She never could, not after her family found out she was tainted by a Hollow - _Because how did they even find out?_ _She definitely didn’t tell them, and she’s pretty sure Ryuuken didn’t either._ \- and kicked her out because she was no longer a pureblood, only to ‘bump’ into Urahara, who offered to pay for all her living expenses and even tuition fees, but also dropped enough hints about spending more time with Isshin in case the block holding back the Hollowfication of her soul _suddenly became unstable_.

She knew a threat when she heard one. But she weighed her options, and at fifteen-years-old with nothing to her name but a few meager heirlooms and the clothes on her back, she wanted to live more than she despised being forced down the road that led to an inevitable end. It wasn’t as if she was unfamiliar with arranged marriages anyway, and at least Isshin was content to let her continue on to higher education, not even making any advances until she turned eighteen. If her engagement to Ryuuken wasn’t broken, she would’ve been standing at the altar the day she turned sixteen and probably a pregnant high-school dropout by the end of the same week.

So at the very least, she was grateful to these Shinigami for giving her another option.)

She doesn’t even know what they want for the longest time, not until she’s twenty and holding her first child in her arms. Then Isshin invites Urahara around, and the way they both look at him…

Sometimes she thinks about killing them both and running away with Ichigo. Even if she fails, she could say that at least she tried.

She’ll never be certain whether it’s caution or cowardice that prevents her from going through with it.

Ichigo though. She’ll never regret Ichigo. Her firstborn, her son, with her eyes and a much brighter shade of her hair, and even as a newborn baby, she can tell that there’s very little Isshin in him.

And he’s powerful. Reiryoku levels aside, he has the genes of both Quincy and Shinigami in him, and Masaki shocks herself when she realizes - after Ichigo’s birth - that she can gather reishi and tap into her Quincy powers again, which means she’s also passed on the Hollow inside her to her son.

A part of her mourns it. She was supposed to bear the consequences of that fight. Ichigo has nothing to do with it. But at the same time, he’s also _alive_ , and he has no need to be tethered to a Shinigami the way she had to be to keep the Hollowfication at bay. Ichigo’s very soul is part Quincy, part Shinigami, and part Hollow, perfectly fused together.

No wonder Isshin and Urahara want him for their plans. This was what they wanted from her - her baby, her child, with the potential to wield power from all three races.

Why they want that power, she doesn’t know. She figures it’s not all that important in the long run. What she _does_ know, and what _is_ important, is the fact that she can’t leave her son defenceless.

She’s not strong enough to save Ichigo from the Shinigami’s machinations entirely. But she _is_ strong, and she’ll make damn certain that her son is too. If she can’t protect him directly, no matter how much she wants to, then at the very least, she’ll ensure that he can protect himself.

So when Isshin mentions casually over breakfast that he wants Ichigo to grow up as a normal boy, without all that Shinigami and Quincy nonsense, Masaki smiles and nods and lies.

She’s never regretted anything less.

 

* * *

 

So Ichigo learns about his heritage, his birthright. He’s descended from a king, a prince in his own right despite his status as a disgraced halfblood, through no fault of his own. When Isshin isn’t within earshot, she teaches him the Kaiser Gesang right alongside his letters and numbers and nursery rhymes. She whispers the secrets passed down through her own pureblood family in place of bedtime stories, about Yhwach and his Echt Quincy army, about their war with the Shinigami and their subsequent defeat, about the Sealed King’s fabled Wandenreich, even about their hubris causing the instability of souls and the genocide that followed. She shows him their Quincy Zeichen and explains - as best she can - their techniques, some commonly used, others that haven’t been seen in a thousand years.

Ichigo listens to her every word. He’s a bright boy, clever and curious and always happiest when he’s spending time with her. Masaki worries about that a little - children usually want to make friends of their own, don’t they? But he’s the light of her life, and she’s never loved anyone more, so it’s never a hardship to keep Ichigo close, letting him follow her everywhere.

And if that means he rarely leaves her sight, which means there aren’t any opportunities for Isshin or Urahara to whisk him away to god knows where without her knowledge, then all the better for her nerves.

It helps that Isshin never seems to want to spend any quality time with him. He plays peek-a-boo with Ichigo and buys toys for him, coos at him and occasionally burps him, but nothing beyond that. He's not _invested_ , the way a father should be, and if someone asked Masaki to pick one thing she hates most about her husband, it would be this.

She wonders if he views Ichigo as his son at all. She suspects not, and it infuriates her all the more, because always, in her dreams, at the back of her mind, every time she lays eyes on Isshin, she is acutely aware of that unknown deadline looming in her son’s future. So she disguises reishi lessons as games, encouraging Ichigo to mould cats and bears and birds out of blue light to strengthen his flexibility with it, and then borrowing library books on a variety of weapons so he can learn to make those too.

Ichigo soaks everything in like a sponge. As she suspected, his massive levels of reiryoku is not the most terrifying thing about him. It’s his potential to _learn_ and _grow_ and _master_.

By the time she’s pregnant with twins and Ichigo is entering school, he’s fluent in Japanese, English, and German, as much as a four-year-old can be. His hands are still that of a child’s, small and delicate and a little chubby, but he flips reishi daggers between his fingers with the ease of a magician performing card tricks.

Upon Isshin’s insistence, Ichigo is signed up for karate. He makes a rival-friend there - Arisawa Tatsuki - and they take turns beating each other up every week, so at least Masaki won’t have to worry about teaching him any martial arts.

They keep everything secret from Isshin of course. Ichigo asks her why, once.

“Your father wouldn’t understand,” Masaki tells him, which is true enough, if terribly vague, and more than a little trite. But Ichigo just nods and accepts it, and goes back to eating his ice-cream.

Masaki thinks he cares about Isshin about as much as Isshin cares about him. Ichigo’s always been intuitive, and he can probably sense the distance between himself and his father. He’s never complained or cried about it though, and Masaki hopes that’s because he doesn’t feel the loss. Perhaps her love alone is enough to make up for the fact that the three of them will never be a proper family.

If nothing else though, at least Ichigo never sees anything wrong with hiding things from Isshin.

 

* * *

 

When the twins are born, Masaki is torn between overwhelming relief and jittery apprehension. On one hand, Karin and Yuzu _combined_ aren’t born with even a tenth of Ichigo’s amount of reiryoku. She suspects they have very little Hollow in them too since Ichigo seems to have inherited the bulk of it, and that’s good, that’s excellent, because she won’t have to worry about Isshin and Urahara wanting to get their hands on them, although it does make her feel a little guilty for being happy that her daughters were born so much weaker than her son.

Because on the other hand, there’s still a lot of supernatural things out there that can kill them, and they might not have the means to defend themselves if and when that day comes.

“It’s okay, Okaa-san,” Ichigo pipes up one day when she’s changing Yuzu’s diaper, and Ichigo - bless him - sticks around to learn, watching her like a hawk despite wrinkling his nose at the smell. “I’ll protect them! I’m their older brother so it’s my job!”

Masaki goes still for a moment, then smiles, proud but also a little sad. Ichigo’s always been attuned to her moods so she isn’t surprised that he’s picked up on her concern. At the same time though…

“And as your mother, it’s my job to protect all three of you,” Masaki retorts. She sighs at the stubborn tilt of Ichigo’s chin. “But I’m glad I’ll have help with the girls. Just make sure to take care of yourself too, okay sweetheart?”

“Of course, Okaa-san,” He beams at her, still so innocent despite knowing three different ways to cripple a Shinigami should he ever get into a fight with one, and purifying his first Hollow just the other day. “I can’t protect anyone if I’m dead.”

Masaki hates herself sometimes, because it’s times like this that she knows she’s raising him wrong. But what else can she do?

 

* * *

 

Isshin treats the girls differently. He dotes on them and reads them bedtime stories, takes them shopping for cute clothes and pushes them on the swings in the park when they’re old enough. He’s still dismally irresponsible when it comes to the practical aspects of being a parent, like making sure they’re dressed warmly enough before they go outside and teaching them their first words and looking both ways before he leads them across a street, but he loves them the way he loves Masaki, noisy and theatrical and probably honestly believing it himself.

It also makes the disparity between his interactions with the twins and his interactions with Ichigo so obvious to Masaki that she’s surprised strangers on the street don’t point it out when they’re on a walk and Isshin buys snacks for them all except Ichigo because he apparently didn’t have enough hands.

She’s not sure what he’s playing at but he’s taken to calling Ichigo a mama’s boy lately, and he says it like a taunt, loudly and occasionally within the earshot of other children at the park who go to the same school Ichigo does.

“I’m sorry, darling,” She murmurs once when she’s tucking him into bed. He tripped out of school with barely suppressed tears because the kids wouldn’t stop sniggering at him for clutching at her skirts all the time. They wouldn’t laugh if they knew he could hit a target from ten feet away, but she made sure to drill into him that his strength must always be used to protect and defend, and schoolyard taunts don’t count.

Ichigo makes a sleepy questioning noise so Masaki clarifies, “It’s my fault. I don’t reprimand your dad nearly enough. He doesn’t- He doesn’t treat you right, I know.”

Her son is seven and uses reishi like he was born knowing how. He recites their history in German like he has an eidetic memory, and he’s already hearing voices in his head when they meditate together. He is amazing, and Masaki doesn’t tell him enough, especially when he looks at her now, clear-eyed and sweet-smiled and says, “I don’t care, Kaa-san. People can call me whatever they want. I still love you best!” He pauses, and then tacks on almost apologetically, “Yuzu and Karin share the spot with you though. Sorry.”

She laughs a little and presses a kiss to his forehead and assures him she doesn’t mind.

She bids him goodnight and does her best not to cry. This was never the life she wanted for any children she would ever have, trained to protect himself, trained to _kill_ , all because she’s afraid of what the man she married will do to him one day.

 

* * *

 

Generally speaking, Masaki doesn’t know that much about Shinigami. She knows what they do and what they’re made of and where they live and work, but not much else. She’s managed to coax answers out of Isshin over the years though. Her husband isn’t half as smart as Urahara, and she’s relieved the shopkeeper hasn’t come around again after meeting Ichigo that first time. But Isshin indulges her with little anecdotes of his life in Seireitei and the clan he came from and bits and pieces of his job and position and even his powers, especially when she gets him drunk enough. She never pushes too far because he _was_ a Shinigami captain once, so even he might start getting suspicious if she asks too many specific questions.

But what she does learn, she passes on to Ichigo. Reiatsu is something she - as a Quincy - had to learn about anyway, along with what made a Hollow and the difference between killing them and purifying them. Masaki supervised her son’s first Hollow kill when he was five, only for Ichigo to surprise them both when the Hollow dispersed into a single white butterfly instead of dissolving into the standard blue light. As it turned out, Ichigo can purify Hollows instead of outright killing them. Masaki lets him take over most of the finishing blows when they fight after that. It’s still death, in a way, but at least it isn’t murder, and Masaki tries to take comfort in that.

(Someday, someone will paint her baby boy’s hands red. She’s selfishly glad it won’t be her.)

Information about Zanpakutou is sparse but she gets the gist of it from Isshin, and Ichigo improvises the rest. He’s eight when he rushes into the kitchen where she’s washing the dishes, full to the brim with a dazed sort of excitement, and it’s lucky Isshin is driving the girls to a birthday party because Ichigo proceeds to shout, “Kaa-san! I did it! I met my spirits!”

Spirits, plural, because he has two apparently. Masaki doesn’t think that’s normal - Isshin only has Engetsu - but nothing about her son has ever been normal so she simply listens intently to his animated babble about “an old man named Zangetsu, he’s pretty cool” and “a white one who looks like me and won’t tell me his name, and he waved a sword at me but Zangetsu wouldn’t let him attack so it’s fine and I’ll keep talking to him until he likes me!”

It chills her to her bones, because she can take an educated guess about ‘the white one’. She doesn’t know how Hollowfication works exactly, doesn’t know if this creature in Ichigo’s mind is literally part of the same one that attacked her and infected her and was locked away inside her by Isshin and Urahara to save her life. She prays it isn’t, or if it is, she prays it doesn’t hold a grudge against her son because of her. At least it has that other one - Zangetsu - to keep it in check, and Ichigo seems perfectly fine after meeting both his spirits.

She doesn’t tell Ichigo about her reservations. It’s the one thing she hasn’t told him - her battle with that Hollow and what Isshin did to save her and Urahara’s condition for keeping her alive and providing for her livelihood when she needed it - which, she knows, is terribly ironic in an amusing laugh-so-you-won’t-cry sort of way because it’s half the reason she’s been training Ichigo all these years in the first place.

But she’s ashamed of it, of herself, for her own failure to keep her son safe, and she doesn’t know how to bring it up anyway. Ichigo knows by now how messed up Quincy traditions can be, especially for pureblood females, but it’s a… broad sort of understanding, because however smart Ichigo is, he’s still only eight, and it’s one thing to explain inbreeding and blood purity from an objective point of view, it’s another entirely to make it personal.

So in the end, she says nothing and only expresses her pride and joy at what Ichigo’s managed to achieve.

 

* * *

 

Masaki loves her daughters, loves them before they’re even born, loves them all the more when she finally gets to hold them. They feel as fragile as Ichigo felt in her arms when he was a baby, and sometimes still feels when she hugs him.

But Ichigo is her favourite, her firstborn, her lovely golden boy with the full weight of two bloodlines running through his veins and a fate that won’t guarantee a long safe life. The twins are Shinigami and Quincy too, but it’s far more diluted in them, especially Yuzu. She’s hesitant to tell the girls about their legacy, and she knows it’s unfair to spare them the burden when she’s placed it so squarely on Ichigo, but Isshin and Urahara have no designs on them, and so she tells herself that she can wait for Karin and Yuzu to grow up a bit first, maybe even reach their teens, before telling them their truths.

So Ichigo remains the only one she shares her secrets with and imparts almost everything she knows to, her favourite, her firstborn, her lovely golden boy.

If he wonders why, he doesn’t ask this time, but he looks at his sisters with something fierce and resolute, holds their hands when they cross the street, zips up their coats and snarls at anyone who looks at them wrong on the playground, and Masaki thinks he understands.

 

* * *

 

The last time she spoke to Ryuuken was shortly before her aunt threw her out of the house and told her not to come back, to consider herself lucky that they weren’t going to execute her for her impure blood.

She doesn’t contact him when she hears that his mother’s passed away. She doesn’t invite him to her wedding. She doesn’t call him when she hears he’s finally settled for marrying that halfblood Quincy who used to follow Ryuuken around all the time.

But every year, once a year, she sends him a picture of her children on their birthdays, first Ichigo, then the twins later on. He still has the same number from back when they were teenagers. He never texts anything back, even after the very first time she sent him a photo of Ichigo out of the blue, still in the hospital on the day of his birth, but four months later, she gets a photo of her own, a baby with hair as black as Ryuuken’s is white but with the same-coloured eyes, if not quite the same shape.

They don’t talk about it, but the exchange of photos continue like clockwork, every year, once a year.

She’s just reached the entrance of the park with all three of her children when she spots Ryuuken and his wife across the street, with Uncle Souken and little Uryuu a few feet back. She keeps a sharp eye on the twins as they run ahead towards the slide but she holds Ichigo back for a few seconds before he can dart off.

“That’s your Uncle Ryuuken and his wife,” She points out discreetly. “And your cousin Uryuu with his grandfather Souken over there. Well, technically speaking, they’re mostly all cousins, but I was adopted into their family after my parents died.”

Ichigo gives them a (somewhat adorable, Masaki privately thinks) narrow-eyed look. “But you ran away cuz you didn’t want to marry your brother.”

Masaki offers a slightly strained smile. “That’s right. He’s not a bad person though, your Uncle Ryuuken. It was mostly his mother and some extended relatives pushing for it.”

Ichigo huffs and doesn’t look any less forgiving. Masaki’s smile comes a little easier, and she ruffles his hair before nudging him in the direction of the playground. “Go play with your sisters now. Make sure Karin doesn’t try to walk on the monkey bars again, alright?”

“‘Kay, Kaa-san!” Ichigo agrees and darts off.

Masaki watches him go before glancing back at Ryuuken, only to find him staring at her too. She hesitates briefly, then nods a greeting. After a moment, Ryuuken nods back.

They part ways without further acknowledgement, and that's the last time Masaki ever sees him.

 

* * *

 

Masaki has become complacent, because when her death comes, she does not expect it.

A part of her always thought, after she gave birth to Ichigo, that Isshin would divorce her, or Urahara would send someone to kill her. He might even do it himself. She spent years waiting for the other shoe to drop, terrified at first because while she may have decided to train Ichigo enough so that her son would be able to protect himself, that would come later, he was still a _baby_ back then, and he needed her more than ever.

But perhaps her two Shinigami benefactors were less cruel than her paranoia thought, or maybe Isshin really did convince himself that he was in love with her, or maybe they just didn’t want to waste time raising a child themselves when Masaki could be there to do that job-- whatever the reason, they let her live, they let her stay, and as the years passed, she began to think that she might actually live to see Ichigo grow up, to see exactly what Isshin and Urahara wanted from him, and maybe even convince them to let her take his place when the time came.

So she doesn’t expect it when death comes for her, and she thinks it must be some cosmic joke that neither of the two threats she’s kept as close an eye on as possible all these years is responsible for killing her in the end.

She’s walking home with Ichigo after his karate practice. It’s pouring rain, the late afternoon made even darker with the storm clouds above, and they’re huddled under one umbrella. They’re walking past the turbulent river that bisects Karakura when movement catches her eye and she finds a little girl standing on the bank.

Ichigo jerks to a stop beside her as he too notices, and he takes a step towards the river before halting again. “Kaa-san, is that a Hollow?”

“It is,” Masaki glances sharply left and right, squinting through the rain. It’s faint but her senses tell her there’s a Hollow here, hidden from sight, more than just an innocuous-looking girl.

“It looks like a trap,” She says to Ichigo in low tones. “I’ll attack first. Get whatever jumps out at me when I do.”

Ichigo nods, his face settling into determined lines as reishi sparks at his fingertips. Masaki squeezes his hand one more time, then lets go, sets their umbrella aside, and heads towards the river.

She summons her bow with half a thought, skewering the not-girl with an arrow just as something large and dark looms over her from behind. She’s already turning, another arrow notched even though she knows she won’t need it because there’s no way her son will miss. But then-

-lightning flashes and lights up the sky, so bright that Masaki has to blink spots out of her eyes, and then-

“Kaa-san!” Ichigo’s voice splits the air, horror and panic duelling for dominance, and underneath that-- _pain_. Masaki is already turning to look, searching frantically for the bright beacon of her son’s hair in the dark, heart in her throat because she’s never heard Ichigo sound like that before.

“Kaa-san! I can’t make- _watch out!_ ”

The Hollow - a large one with red bird-like hands at feet grins at her, jaws yawning open - bears down on her, and Masaki raises her bow, ready to kill it, only to freeze when her weapon disintegrates in her hands and something inside her _breaks_.

Everything is still so bright.

 _That’s not lightning_ , is the only thing she has time to realize right before the Hollow lunges and its teeth rips a chunk out of her torso.

She chokes on a cry even as she staggers and falls. Above the roar in her ears, she hears someone scream, and it only takes a moment for everything to click.

“Stay away!” Masaki shrills out as loud as she possibly can even as her hands slip-slide over what’s left of her blood-drenched stomach. “Stay away, Ichigo! Run away! Just run!”

_Maybe- Maybe if he runs far enough away, Yhwach will spare him-_

Large white teeth enters her line of sight again, and she knows - this is how she dies, in the mud and the cold, alone and inglorious, with her precious son watching on.

 _Ichigo won’t get a birthday present from me this year,_ she thinks dimly, inanely, and then even that is swept away as the world goes dark for the very last time.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the reviews so far! This is an UraIchi fic and there was like zero UraIchi in the first chapter (and this chapter too, sorry, it'll take a while to get to that) but you all seem to like Masaki which is great (I'm sorry I killed her I guess?). Some of you had questions and/or guesses about what will happen so I hope the rest of this fic will answer them sooner or later.

 

The Hollow escapes.

In the aftermath, Ichigo - gasping for breath with lungs that don’t seem to be working properly because it feels like someone’s torn a hole in his chest - still heaves himself to his hands and knees and half-crawls, half-tumbles down the bank, dragging himself forward until he can collapse next to the broken body of his mother.

“Kaa-san, Kaa-san, please-” He’s blubbering, and Tatsuki would laugh at him because boys aren’t supposed to cry but _this is his mom and she died because Ichigo failed her, because he couldn’t purify the Hollow when she was counting on him, because-_

He coughs, clutching at his chest. Something is _missing_ , ripped away and leaving a gaping hole behind.

“Kaa-san-” He gasps out, reaching out to shake her shoulder. But he knows death, and he _saw_ that Hollow kill her, and oh god, his mom’s _soul_ , he didn’t even get to purify it-

“Kaa-san, wake up,” He begs uselessly. “Wake up, please, I’m sorry, I couldn’t-”

Lightning flickers across the sky, and Ichigo flinches instinctively. But the world doesn’t light up the way it did before, and a moment later, thunder booms overhead.

The light. Oh god.

Ichigo has memorized everything his mom ever taught him. She’s his _mom_ , and Ichigo always felt special, that she trusted him enough to share what she was with him, and considered him responsible enough to handle all the things that came with knowledge of Quincy and Shinigami and Hollows.

So he can connect the dots just as well as he’s pretty sure his mom did right before she died, and the realization makes furious futile tears burn in his eyes all over again.

 _Auswählen_.

Ichigo chokes on a sob and curls up beside his mother’s body as the rain comes down that much harder.

 _Auswählen_.

The Kaiser Gesang sings like a funeral march in his head. He’s known that hymn for as long as he can remember, and not even his mom knew exactly how many years had passed since the King was sealed away. A part of Ichigo believed it to be a fairy tale even, but more than that, he never really thought the King would just _take_ his power from his own family, even if they are halfbloods. Only the bad ones maybe, the ones who’ve committed crimes. Not _everyone_ , just because of their _blood_.

Either way though, his mother was pure. The last Kurosaki. _Echt_ , through and through, and that didn’t change just because she married a Shinigami. This shouldn’t have happened. If it had to take someone’s, it should’ve only taken Ichigo’s powers, not both of theirs.

_How dare he?_

He closes his eyes. He can’t quite find the energy to keep them open anymore.

But he makes a promise, before his last conscious thoughts slip away:

The Sealed Quincy King is going to regret leaving Ichigo alive.

Because Ichigo is going to _destroy_ Yhwach for this.

 

* * *

 

Looking back, Ichigo couldn’t tell you what happened over the next three days. Someone finds them. Someone calls the police. Someone takes him home.

He remembers it in crude snapshots, blurry and few - his father howling down the phone, his sisters crying, police trekking in and out, and once, a blond man in a dark coat and wooden sandals perched on the windowsill. That last one was probably a hallucination.

He’s told, later, that he caught a cold from the rain. He’s down with a fever for almost four days, and when he finally wakes up, the twins are curled up in bed with him, and he feels cold down to the bone.

He stumbles to the bathroom and stares at his sickly pale face in the mirror. He expects a hole in his chest but there’s nothing there, just pajamas over unblemished skin.

He lifts his hands and tries to gather reishi. Nothing comes, not so much as a spark of blue.

He closes his eyes. Then he opens them, almost trips over thin air as he uses the toilet before washing his hands and face, and then he hobbles back to his bed and shakily climbs in again between his sisters.

He checks them over. They’re sound asleep with dried tear-tracks on their faces but they don’t look like they’re in pain. At least not physical pain. If they were sick, they’d be in their own beds, and they’ve never tapped into their Quincy sides.

He lets himself feel a measure of relief. Maybe that’s it. Mom always said they had very little Quincy in them, and what they did have was dormant all this time. Maybe Yhwach didn’t sense them, or if he did get them, then the Quincy part of their souls weren’t big enough to cause any damage.

He hopes that’s true. He doesn’t actually _know_.

He slumps back on his bed, already dozing off again.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he’ll wake up and be strong and figure everything out. But for now, he just wants to sleep and stop thinking.

Stop remembering.

Stop feeling.

 

* * *

 

The funeral is held a week later in the morning, grey and dreary and still raining. Ichigo holds his sisters’ hands and pays his respects and says nothing to all the nameless faces who approach him and say they’re sorry. The closed casket is lowered into the ground, and a few people make a few more speeches.

Then they go home.

Ichigo stares after their dad for a moment when he walks straight into the clinic and locks the door behind him, not even bothering to open the front door for his kids.

Well, the man’s always been more or less useless anyway.

He takes his sisters inside and tells them to go change. He digs out some canned chicken broth and starts heating that up. They haven’t eaten breakfast today.

The twins are subdued but they eat their lunch willingly enough on the living room couch. Yuzu leans against his left side and Karin keeps a death-grip on his sleeve on his right. They watch a stupid Saturday cartoon in silence.

It’s a long day. They don’t see hide or hair of Isshin so Ichigo cooks the three of them dinner too - simple mac n’ cheese - before making sure they take their baths and brush their teeth and get into bed at the right time.

“Can we sleep with you again, Nii-chan?” Yuzu whispers, speaking for the first time that day.

Ichigo chivvies them into his bedroom without another word.

This time, even Karin curls into him like she thinks he’ll disappear if she doesn’t. Ichigo just throws his arms around them both and hums the tune of a Quincy lullaby their mother used to sing to all of them.

It takes a solid hour for the twins to fall asleep. Ichigo is up again as soon as he’s sure they won’t wake. Then he goes and raids their parents’ closet.

When Mom ran away from home, she managed to take several books, a few journals, and a handful of Quincy Crosses with her. She kept it in a chest at the back of her closet, snuck them out when she used them to teach Ichigo one lesson or another, and gave Ichigo a key to it just last year.

Mom always went on and on about what to do if something happened to her. Not as much in recent years but Ichigo remembers despite the fact that he never really took those particular warnings seriously. He always thought, if his mom was ever in trouble - and why would she be, she was so _strong_ \- but if she did get into trouble that she couldn’t get out of, then Ichigo would be able to protect her.

He has to pause and push down the guilt that’s threatening to swallow him whole. His hands shake, and the tightness in his chest that’s been plaguing him all day seems to get worse.

He breathes through it and focuses on opening the chest, keeping an ear on the rest of the house. He proceeds to read and reread everything he can find on Auswählen, just in case he's forgotten something, but nothing pops out at him, no magical cure, no way to fix it unless their wonderful King has a change of heart and decides to take someone else’s Quincy powers and dump it in Ichigo instead, and even then…

He balls a fist against his knee. He’s half-Quincy, half-Shinigami. He’s not like Mom was. Mom was Quincy all the way through, down to her soul. Take that away, and even without that Hollow, she probably would’ve died shortly after. It’s a testament to how powerful her soul was that she didn’t drop the moment Auswählen was used.

But Ichigo is only half. Taking his Quincy powers away is probably like chopping off half his soul. Which means he’s still running on half a soul, and that’s kept him alive, but… but for how long?

He puts everything back. He doesn’t have every word memorized but he knows the information in them back to front. He isn’t going to need the Quincy Crosses either, and as much as he wants to take the entire chest’s contents, Mom always said that if anything happened to her, he should leave them where they are because his dad might notice if anything’s missing, and he won’t approve of Ichigo getting his hands on them.

She never said it outright, but Ichigo always got the impression that his mom was scared of Shiba Isshin.

Ichigo’s returning the last of the books - a second copy of a compendium of Quincy family trees - when the jacket comes loose and the book slips out, falling to the floor with a thump.

It’s… not a book. It’s a pale blue journal, one he’s never seen before. Well, that’s not true. He’s seen his mom write in this before but she explained that it was for her private thoughts, more a diary than anything else, and she asked him not to peek so Ichigo never did.

His hand hovered over the worn cover now, and then he almost jumps when he hears the downstairs door open and shut.

He makes a split-second decision: he locks up the chest and then grabs his mother’s diary and the fake book jacket and scampers back to his room.

Lying between his sisters again, he holds his breath as he listens to the heavy footsteps coming up to the stairs. They don’t pause in front of his sisters’ bedroom or his own, disappearing into the master bedroom instead, and only when he hears the door click shut does he finally relax.

He takes out the diary again, staring at it for a moment before stuffing it under his pillow. He’ll look at it tomorrow. He feels a little guilty for invading Mom’s privacy but… well, it’s not like she’s around to scold him anymore anyway.

He eventually drifts off into a restless slumber, only to fall straight into his skyscraper mindscape.

Everything is sideways, as always. He was fascinated when he first reached this place, strange and familiar at the same time, with vibrant green vines wrapped around the skyscrapers and flowers growing everywhere and blue skies above, almost always sunny with an invisible breeze coasting by.

It’s not sunny anymore though, and the flowers are gone. Everything is dark and cold and wet. When Ichigo peers over the side of the skyscraper he’s standing on, he’s horrified to find half the place flooded even as more rain comes down, and after a few seconds, he realizes that the buildings themselves look halfway to disrepair, various parts crumbling into the water below.

“Zangetsu!” He calls out desperately, looking around wildly for his dark-haired spirit. “Zangetsu! Where are you?! Are you okay? Zangetsu!”

He begins to run, leaping clumsily from building to building. He’s not as good with reiatsu as he is- _was_ , with reishi, because he simply didn’t practice with it very much, so he always has to stop at the edge of a building and gather enough reiatsu to launch himself onto the next flat surface.

“Zangetsu!” Ichigo shouts again, and something about the way his voice echoes in his mindscape frightens him.

He’s never felt so alone.

“Zangetsu!” He’s crying now, and trying not to because crying never helped anyone. But he’s already lost his mom and half his soul and- what if he’s lost one of his spirits too? _What if he’s lost both?_

But he still doesn’t know the white one’s name - his lookalike won’t give it to him, even if he has stopped attacking Ichigo without Zangetsu’s intervention every time Ichigo shows up - so he doesn’t know how to call for him.

“Shiro!” He decides. “Shiro! Zangetsu! Where are you?! Please be okay!”

His voice cracks on the last word, and he can barely see what’s in front of him. He has to skid to a halt again, gather reiatsu again, and then jump. The rain isn’t helping, and a cough bubbles up mid-leap, his body spasming with the fit. He still makes it across, barely but then the building collapses beneath his foot and sends him plummeting down, down, _down-_

He panics, reaching instinctively for reishi and finding none. But just before he smacks into the water, a scream trapped in his throat, something white darts into his peripheral vision and all but crashes into him, bowling him head over heels and sideways before arms close like a vice around him, and a moment later, reiatsu coalesces around both of them and sends them shooting back up into the sky.

“You-!” Ichigo gasps and immediately latches onto his white spirit. “Shiro! You’re alive!”

“‘S’not my name, brat,” comes the gruff dual-toned voice Ichigo’s become accustomed to over the past several months.

They land on top of another skyscraper. Ichigo tightens his grip but his spirit doesn’t make any move to put him down anyway.

Ichigo looks up, and then recoils, just a little, when he finds himself staring at a masked face, two horns protruding from the upper sides of it, almost entirely black with only two white lines stretching vertically from the top of the mask, right over the eyes, and ending just below them.

His white spirit is… very different, Ichigo slowly takes in. White-skinned of course, and still mostly dressed in white, but he’s grown a lot taller, and his hair - also still white - is much longer now, extending from underneath the back of his full-headed mask and falling past his waist. He’s still wearing a white shihakushou but he’s gained a long coat as well, white with furry black trim along the collar.

“Scared?” The spirit asks when the silence between them stretches too long. Fangs peek out from his mouth when he speaks.

Ichigo blinks. “No,” He says honestly. He supposes it’s a little unsettling, mostly because he has no idea why his white spirit has changed so much, but…

He ducks his head again and huddles as close as he can to his spirit, who is still here, still _alive_ , and that’s all he cares about.

Above him, his spirit heaves a sigh. “Fuckin’ hell,” He mutters, and then adds, “Don’t fucking use bad words. Wait. _Fuck._ ...Oh forget it.”

Ichigo splutters out a weak laugh. His spirit snorts in reply, and then they’re off again, flying through the air until they find some cover from the rain, if only in the form of a skyscraper hanging above them while his spirit takes a seat on the building beneath. Ichigo’s small enough to fit in his lap, and when he shivers, his spirit roughly tosses part of his coat over him.

For a while, neither of them speaks. Ichigo has to muffle a cough once in a while, but mostly, he’s content to curl up in the gentle warmth that his spirit is radiating.

Eventually though, he does force himself to ask, reluctantly, “Zangetsu’s not here anymore, is he?”

“...No,” His spirit says shortly, ignoring Ichigo’s flinch. “And his name wasn’t really Zangetsu. He didn’t have a name.” He pauses and then admits, “ _I’m_ Zangetsu. _He_ was the manifestation of your Quincy powers, which isn’t normal for Quincy but when have you ever been fucking normal, right? Anyway, he used my name cuz he wanted to stick around and get to know you.” He scoffs but it’s half-hearted at best. “He was a fucking sap like that.”

Ichigo digests this quietly. He… can’t say he’s surprised. It just… It makes sense. Ichigo’s always felt closer to Zan- to old man Zangetsu more than his white spirit, and it wasn’t wholly down to the fact that the former was always nicer to him than the latter. Old man Zangetsu just felt… more familiar.

“You’re both Zangetsu then,” Ichigo declares in a thick voice. “But- But the old man’s gone forever.” He snakes his arms around his white spirit’s waist. “You can’t go away too. Promise.”

His white spirit- _Zangetsu_ , mutters a few more choice curses but he’s also still holding Ichigo in a relentless grip.

“I’m not going anywhere,” He says at last. “Why’d you think I look like this now?”

Ichigo lifts his head a little at that and frowns. “I dunno. Why?”

He can’t see it, with the mask in the way, but he gets the impression that Zangetsu is rolling his eyes.

“I had to… speed things up a bit, you could say, when this happened.” He waves a hand around them. “To compensate. That Auswählen-” For just a moment, angry red energy crackles along his horns before disappearing again. “That pissant fraud-king planted that still silver poison shit in your heart. I’ve already destroyed it but he also carved out a third of your soul in that attack, and I can’t fucking heal that. You’re different, you know that. Your soul is a fusion of three different races so it couldn’t kill you instan-”

“Three?” Ichigo pipes up, confused. He hunches a little when he gets a mild glare for interrupting.

Zangetsu huffs and glances away for a moment before looking back. “Figures your mom wouldn’t have told you. That troublesome woman...”

He pauses, and one of his hands - slightly clawed - curl around Ichigo’s shoulder. Ichigo just peers up at him through the folds of his coat, and Zangetsu sighs.

“Your mother was attacked by a special Hollow when she was younger,” He explains. “It was how she met your father. She saved his worthless hide, but she was bitten right before she killed it.”

Ichigo stiffens, alarmed, because he knows perfectly well that everything about a Hollow is poisonous to a Quincy, and if she was bitten…

“She didn’t die, obviously,” Zangetsu continues. “I don’t think ya know what Hollowfication is?”

Ichigo shakes his head.

“It basically gives a Shinigami Hollow powers,” Zangetsu tells him. “Read your mother’s diary, it’ll probably explain better than me. Anyway, that Hollow your mom fought had the ability to Hollowfy its prey. But a Quincy can’t be Hollowfied, obviously. So your dad and a friend of his found a way to block off the… infection. It was still inside her soul but it couldn’t kill her.”

Ichigo nods slowly. He can’t say he understands completely, but so long as it didn’t hurt his mom anymore…

“Fast forward,” Zangetsu says brusquely. “Your mom married your dad and had you.” He cocks his head in a gesture that looks entirely animal. “And that bit of Hollow in her was passed down to you.”

Ichigo’s mouth drops open. “That’s- But I’m a Quincy too!”

“That’s what makes ya special,” Zangetsu says. “Your soul is part Shinigami, part Quincy, and part Hollow, perfectly fused. Or-” He scoffs out an abrasive laugh and tosses his head at the ruins around them. “-it _was_.”

Ichigo opens his mouth again, the closes it. He’s… part Hollow? Why didn’t Mom ever tell him? And…

“You’re wearing a mask,” He says haltingly. “I mean it’s black but… the rest of you is white. You’ve always been…” He stops again, and for the first time, looking up into that blank masked face, he feels a shiver of unease trickle down his spine. “How do you… How do you even know all that stuff about my mom?”

Zangetsu doesn’t answer for a long minute, and when he does, his voice is different, deeper, and - now that Ichigo is pretty sure he knows what to listen for - far more _Hollow_ than Zanpakutou spirit.

“ **Clever boy** ,” Zangetsu bites out mockingly. Ichigo twitches but gets no further. Zangetsu doesn’t let him. He chuckles instead, a grating sound that reverberates through the mindscape. “ **Calm down now. What happened to not being scared?** ”

Ichigo clenches his hands into fists. “I’m not! But you- You can’t be- You’re _not_. You didn’t kill my mom. You’re _my_ spirit. You never would!”

Zangetsu stares at him, unblinking, unwavering. Ichigo glares back.

“...I probably wouldn’t,” Zangetsu eventually agrees, and his voice is back to normal, two tones blended into one. “I’m your spirit, Hollowfied by the piece of the Hollow that your mom gave you. It’s a very small piece. Memories, mostly, along with the reiatsu. But that piece is part of me now, so I know everything it knew, and it knew everything your mom went through even after she killed… most of it.”

It’s Ichigo’s turn to stare, long and hard, before finally relaxing again. “Okay.”

Zangetsu looks at him. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo shrugs and snuggles close again. “So… what does it all mean? Me being part… everything. Except Quincy now.”

Zangetsu peers at him for a moment longer before shrugging himself. “Fucking strange kid,” He mutters, but before Ichigo can bristle with indignation, he forges on, “With the old man gone, the balance is all wrong. I’m your Zanpakutou spirit; I’m s’posed to grow with you. But that’s not enough to sustain you anymore.”

He falls silent, and that weird red energy flares up again, all along his horns, jumping off his shoulders, and even sparking at his fingertips, but it doesn’t hurt Ichigo at all.

“I’m not enough,” The spirit says at last, and the words sound like they’ve been dragged out of him, kicking and screaming. “I’ve compacted all the power I could, all the power I’ll ever have, into the present. It’s why I look like this now - I’m the pinnacle of your Shinigami and Hollow powers combined, everything you’ll achieve one day, but it’s not enough. All I’m doing is… nailin’ the walls up with tack against a fucking tsunami. I’m rebuildin’ this place as fast as it’s comin’ down but I won’t be able to do it forever. The way I am now, I can slow down the process of your soul collapsing in on itself, but it _is_ still collapsing. A soul was never s’posed to survive on _less_. Especially yours. A powerful soul is only as strong as its foundation, and your missin’ a whole fucking pillar right now. It won’t happen anytime soon, I’m fucking strong enough to prevent _that_ , but sooner than you’re meant to, probably a _lot_ sooner, you’ll-”

“-die,” Ichigo finishes, and above him, Zangetsu snarls with enough force to shake the skyscrapers, baring his teeth like rage can disguise the terror underneath, like that alone will keep death at bay.

Ichigo wriggles a little until he can slip his hand into Zangetsu’s, and abruptly, the spirit goes silent and still.

He’s known, in a way, ever since he watched his own reishi daggers shatter in his hands, ever since his mom was killed, he’s known he was going to die too. He’s felt it, for the past week or so, hasn’t he? First the fever, then the constant tightness in his chest, then the coughing. His body’s already showing signs that it’s giving out on him. So he’s known, already, that Yhwach has handed down a death sentence to him, albeit a drawn-out one. It’s just that now he also knows why he didn’t die with his mom, and why his mom was killed too. She wasn’t completely pureblooded, through no fault of her own, and so their King decided that she deserved to die as well.

His hand tightens around Zangetsu’s, heedless of the claws. “Can you keep us alive for nine more years?”

Zangetsu doesn’t even seem to be breathing for a long moment, and then, softly at first, then louder and louder until their mindscape rings with the sound, he bursts into cackles, mad and menacing.

“‘Nine years to regain his power, and then nine days to regain the world’?” Zangetsu sneers, all bloodthirsty contempt. He meets Ichigo’s gaze, and the look in both their eyes are simply two sides of the same coin - justice, and vengeance.

For the first time since he saved Ichigo from taking a headfirst dive into the waters below, one of Zangetsu’s hands releases him and comes up to hover in front of his own black-masked face. The mask shifts and blurs into shadows under his hand, lacing between his fingers like living flames before melting away like smoke and leaving behind Zangetsu’s familiar face, bone-white skin and feral yellow eyes and all.

Zangetsu grins at him, wide and borderline insane, and Ichigo wonders distantly what that says about himself. But what does it really matter? Zangetsu is his and he is Zangetsu’s, and they’re all they have now.

“Alright, little moon,” Zangetsu declares, laughter echoing underneath each word, challenging the world. “If we’re gonna die anyway, we might as well go out with a bang. Toppling that fraud-king from his precious throne - why the fuck not? It’ll be one hell of a legacy!”

He cackles again, one arm still wrapped possessively around Ichigo, their fingers still tangled together, and Ichigo lets a smile of his own peel back his lips and bare his teeth.

He can’t bring his mother back, or any of the other impure Quincy who are probably now dead too because the Quincy King thought they didn’t deserve to live.

But he sure as heck can put Yhwach down and make sure he’ll never be able to do anything like it again.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Over the next week or so, whenever he can sneak the time between taking care of his sisters and going to school and trying to ignore the empty space in his life where his mother used to be, Ichigo pores over the diary, and it’s a little like suddenly having a bucket of ice water dumped on him.

Mom wrote down everything here. For the most part, it just sounds like she wanted a place to organize her thoughts, but sometimes, she included a line here and there where she addressed Ichigo directly, like she expected him to read this one day.

She apologized a lot. Ichigo wishes he could tell her she has nothing to be sorry for, because she made the best out of the _crap_ situation that most of her life seems to have been.

He learns about what it was like growing up a Kurosaki, always having to act a certain way to uphold the family honour, knowing from birth that despite being taught the Quincy arts because she may have been female but she was also Echt, the only thing truly expected of her was to marry and start popping out children as soon as she hit sixteen. He learns about the Kurosakis dying in a fire that may or may not have been an accident before she was shipped to Karakura to live with the Ishidas, who oh so graciously took her in, to be wedded to their only son. He learns how she tried to fight her fate, every step of the way, even if it meant going to bed hungry three days in a row because she was too outspoken or getting a beating because she refused to acknowledge Ryuuken as her future husband and master or standing by and watching them loot her heirlooms, only to steal a few back later.

Then he learns about Shiba Isshin and Urahara Kisuke and the Hollow named White.

She drew a picture of the Hollow, just a rough sketch, but it’s enough for Ichigo to recognize the horns and hair and even mask - despite being white - from Zangetsu.

 ** _“Scared?”_** Zangetsu whispers slyly in his mind, his amusement blooming at the back of Ichigo’s mind like sparklers in the dark.

“No,” Ichigo retorts. “You’re mine. You’re not gonna hurt me. Quit asking me that.”

Zangetsu chuckles but says nothing more, and they both focus on the diary again.

He learns about the ritual that saved her life but also trapped her, learns about her suspicions regarding why this Urahara person and even Isshin himself wanted her to marry the latter, learns too about her fears when Ichigo was born with more raw power than all three adults combined.

 _“The world is dangerous,”_ Masaki once told him when Ichigo asked why he had to learn all the things she taught him. He didn’t mind - wielding reishi was always like having superpowers, and that was really cool - but Mom sometimes seemed strangely urgent about teaching him everything she could. _“I need you to be able to protect yourself if someone ever tries to hurt you.”_

It was as vague an answer as the one he got when he asked her why they couldn’t tell his dad about his training, but she never lied, not really.

It’s just that now he knows the details, and even just on the brink of nine, he gets the sudden urge to stab Isshin in the throat.

He’s never loved the man who calls himself his father. He’s never hated him either, before this, but they simply weren’t close enough for any kind of bond to develop, especially since Ichigo’s always taken his cues from his mom, and no matter how well she hid it, it always seemed obvious to _Ichigo_ that she was at the very least constantly wary of Isshin. Besides, Isshin himself was just… there, loud and weird and prone to chasing his mom around with kisses, which was disgusting enough before and now makes him feel downright sick, but never much of a parental figure. The man’s never really paid much attention to Ichigo aside from remarks about toughening him up to be a proper man one day. For Ichigo, Mom was always enough.

And then there’s Urahara. Mom didn’t go into much detail about him aside from his role in ‘saving’ her, only that he’s a Shinigami and a friend of Isshin’s, smarter and more dangerous than the man she married, and for all that she spent years in close proximity with Isshin, it’s Urahara whom the diary makes her sound more frightened of. Oddly enough, Zangetsu can’t remember much about him either. To White, one human looked about the same as the next. Zangetsu knows Isshin because Ichigo knows Isshin, but when it comes to White’s memories, Zangetsu remembers some of the names and some of what they did, but with only a few glimpses of the man throughout Masaki’s life, his inherited memories of Urahara are fuzzy at best. He might be able to pick him out of a crowd, but he might just as well not. Still-

 ** _“We adding Urahara to our shit list?”_** Zangetsu asks in a tone that would’ve been offhand if not for the growl behind it.

Ichigo thinks about that for a moment. His first instinct is a resounding yes. Urahara seems to have orchestrated half his mom’s life and possibly all of Ichigo’s, and that’s just beyond creepy.

 ** _“Cuz you realize,”_** Zangetsu adds almost casually. **_“To get someone like you, he’d have to make sure the Quincy parent was infected with Hollow first. How much you wanna bet he was watching your mom get bitten?”_**

Ichigo’s nails dig into his palms, but he takes a deep breath and firmly shunts aside the surge of rage. “I want to know what he wants first. Making sure Mom was hurt before saving her, and then making sure she married Isshin just to get a baby who _might_ be able to use Shinigami, Quincy, and Hollow powers? That’s a really dumb gamble. There’s no way he could’ve been _certain_ that every step would turn out the way he planned it. So I want to know what he wants so badly that he was willing to take that risk.”

 ** _“And then we kill ’im,”_** Zangetsu agrees. **_“Fine by me. We need time to train you up again anyway. You’re shit at Shinigami stuff right now.”_**

Ichigo grumbles wordlessly at him but doesn’t argue. He _does_ need to get stronger, and without his Quincy powers, he’s going to have to work harder than ever.

He returns to the diary, blinking when the words blur in front of his eyes, and a wave of dizziness washes over him. It’s a good few minutes before his bedroom rights itself again, and even then, his brain feels a bit like it’s swimming through molasses.

 ** _“...Take a nap,”_ ** Zangetsu orders, too quiet, too subdued.

Ichigo tucks the diary away and obeys.

 

* * *

 

On Ichigo’s ninth birthday, a month after Mom was killed, Isshin’s present to him is a flying kick to the head just as Ichigo steps away from the stove with a pan full of bacon. Only Zangetsu’s snarled warning prompts him to dodge in time, and even then, Isshin’s foot clips him on the shoulder hard enough to knock him into the counter. The pan clangs to the floor. The food splatters across the floorboards.

Yuzu screams from her seat at the table. Karin’s still upstairs but she thunders down the steps as soon as she hears the commotion, bursting into the kitchen with half-combed hair and staring wide-eyed at Ichigo sprawled on the floor with their father looming over him.

Isshin bursts into laughter. Ichigo stares up, equal parts bewildered and a kind of furious that settles cold and hard in his gut even as Zangetsu rages in his heart. He thinks, for just a second, that maybe Isshin is having a mental breakdown. The man’s been about as far from reliable as possible since Mom died, spending half his time drinking in the clinic and the other half either sobbing theatrically over a new blown-up poster of Mom’s face in the living room or generally just forgetting he has children to provide for. Ichigo’s learned more recipes in the past month than he has in his entire life before Mom died. A mental break would be par for the course for this man.

Then Isshin opens his mouth, and that thought goes straight out the window.

“You’ll never grow up to be a strong man with slow reflexes like that, Ichigo!” He announces, grinning like it’s all a game, and then he walks over to sit down at the table, either oblivious or outright ignoring the way his daughter shrinks away from him as he reaches for the eggs.

“Y- You can’t-” Karin stutters out from the doorway, cheeks puffing out with both outrage and fear even as she prepares to square off against Isshin, who’s at least three times her size. But Ichigo catches her eye and gives a sharp shake of his head, and she subsides.

He doesn’t think anybody except Zangetsu will like what he does if Isshin attacks Karin for whatever reason.

The rest of breakfast - after Ichigo cleans up the wasted food and cooks more bacon - is spent in almost complete silence, with only Isshin breaking it once in a while to jabber on about something or other that Ichigo’s pretty sure neither he nor his sisters pay any attention to.

His shoulder stings, and when he gets a moment alone in the bathroom later, he finds a sizeable bruise already purpling the skin.

 ** _“You gotta be more careful,”_** Zangetsu tells him. He’s been cussing up a storm all morning in three different languages. **_“I dunno what that fucking lunatic is thinking, if he’s fucking thinking anything at all, but you gotta take care of your body. I have a hard enough time keeping your soul from eroding too fast.”_**

Well, it’s not like Ichigo was planning to do anything else. He grimaces as he pulls his shirt back on. At least the bruise doesn’t show like this.

“Stay out of Isshi- Stay out of Dad’s way,” He instructs his sisters when he’s walking them to school. “I don’t think he’ll hit girls but-”

“He shouldn’t hit you!” Karin says indignantly. On Ichigo’s other side, Yuzu nods vigorously.

Ichigo ruffles their hair the way he remembers Mom did and tries to smile. It comes harder these days. “I can take care of myself. And we can’t report him or anything. The police people might take us away and separate us.”

He winces a little at the horrified looks he gets from his sisters and quickly grabs their hands again. “That won’t happen. Just make sure to stay on his good side. And maybe it was just a one-time thing.”

Even at five, both his sisters are smart enough to look skeptical, but in the end, they nod reluctantly, and Ichigo waves them off at their kindergarten.

As he turns in the direction of his own school, he makes a mental note to start teaching them how to defend themselves. He never wants them to have to fight, and he’ll do his best to protect them, but…

But sometimes, his best isn’t enough. And one dead family member is already too many for him.

Besides, one day, he won’t be here to protect them anymore. He needs them to be strong when that time comes.

 

* * *

 

Isshin doesn’t stop. He starts attacking Ichigo daily. For the most part, Ichigo tries to dodge the blows as best he can. His karate and all the training he did with Mom help - he’s always been fast for his age and size - but Isshin is even faster and surprisingly brutal when he wants to be, ambushing Ichigo from his blind spots and even attacking him when he’s still asleep in the mornings, bellowing good morning or laughing about how Ichigo will have to get stronger if he doesn’t want to get hit.

Ichigo has given up trying to figure out that man’s thought process at this point. He wonders if Isshin realizes how afraid the girls are of him behind their weak smiles, how they flinch just a little when the man showers them with hugs, how they stay out of his way as much as possible, or if he just doesn’t care. They’ve moved back to their own bedroom these days upon Ichigo’s insistence. He doesn’t want Isshin accidentally hurting one of them when the bastard kicks Ichigo out of bed.

Ichigo starts going around with long-sleeves. Thankfully, his school uniform comes with a jacket. He bruises too easily now to pretend they’re only from tripping or karate.

Zangetsu _hates_ Isshin.

“I’m gonna kill ’im one day,” The spirit seethes, pacing the length of a skyscraper even as he keeps a sharp eye on the kata Ichigo is going through. “I’m gonna yank out his spine and beat ’im to death with it.”

This is how Ichigo spends his nights - in his crumbling half-submerged mindscape, learning how to wield the power he gets from Zangetsu.

“He’ll probably already be dead after you yank out his spine,” Ichigo points out wryly.

Zangetsu just grins at him, all lethal intent. “I wouldn’t count on it. Shinigami are a durable lot. I’m sure he’ll live long enough to scream at least.”

Ichigo snorts and tries the spin-thrust Zangetsu showed him again with the slender daitō - black as opposed to Zangetsu’s white one - that he managed to summon only a few nights back.

He doesn’t try to tell his spirit off for threatening Isshin. It’s what he feels like doing most of the time when it comes to that man after all.

And it’s times like this that he suspects old man Zangetsu was a little more than just the manifestation of the Quincy portion of his soul, if only because Ichigo’s a lot less forgiving about a lot of things now that he’s gone.

His sisters aside, compassion from Ichigo is in short supply these days.

 

* * *

 

Life goes on, tragedy or no tragedy.

Karin and Yuzu grow up bit by bit under Ichigo’s careful eye. Yuzu insists on learning how to cook when she turns six. Ichigo teaches her how to make salads and sandwiches and nothing else until she can reach the stove without using a stool. He catches her determinedly measuring herself every week against the giraffe height chart they have at home. It’s adorable (and just a touch heartbreaking but Ichigo’s getting good at ignoring stuff like that these days), and Mom would laugh if she could see. Ichigo secretly snaps a few pictures.

Likewise, Karin decides to take up a chore of her own and Ichigo comes home one day to find her struggling with the vacuum. He buys her a smaller one and solemnly tells her that it’s up to her now to keep both his and her and Yuzu’s bedrooms dust-free. Karin gives him a look that says she wasn’t born yesterday - she has so much attitude, Mom would be proud - but grudgingly acquiesces, if only because it’s exhausting enough for her to keep just those two parts of the house clean at her age.

Ichigo handles most of the rest, leaving the master bedroom and bathroom, the study, and the clinic to Isshin. If they turn into pigsties, so be it.

The first time someone tries to rough Ichigo up because of his hair colour, Ichigo is ten and he’s been cornered by a group of thuggish-looking high-schoolers.

Zangetsu laughs himself sick as Ichigo proceeds to curbstomp them in a back-alley without even using his powers after the leader shoves him into a wall and attempts to steal his money.

Isshin is one thing. He was a Shinigami captain so he’s bound to be strong, even if he’s also stupid and scum of the earth. But even at ten years of age, Ichigo’s been trained for far too long to let a bunch of posturing teenagers get their hands on him. He may not be a Quincy anymore but he still has the reflexes.

Of course, because his luck has taken a serious downturn lately, he gets home and a bout of nausea takes over. He barely makes it to the toilet before he’s throwing up his lunch as quietly as he can because the girls are in their bedroom doing homework.

Ichigo has good days and bad days that are fast becoming better days and worse days. Most of the time, at first, it was just some random coughing and dizzy spells, maybe a headache now and then. He’s felt a little feverish on occasion too but never anything as bad as the first time.

The nausea is a recent development. It isn’t even that he has no appetite, thankfully, but sometimes his stomach rebels and he just can’t keep the food down.

 ** _“You’re still made of flesh and blood and bone even if you aren’t completely Human,”_** Zangetsu rambles on once in the middle of the night after Ichigo spends half an hour dry-heaving into the toilet and ends up too tired to get off the bathroom floor and return to his bed right away. **_“Your soul is still attached to your body so gettin’ your soul all fucked up manifests outwardly and it’s a bitch to heal the damage in here much less out there and-”_**

“Zangetsu,” Ichigo interrupts as kindly as he has the energy for at the moment. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

 ** _“Tch,”_** Zangetsu scoffs, and Ichigo gets the ghost sensation of clawed hands curling possessively over his shoulders and coming to rest dangerously close to his neck. **_“Didn’t say it was, did I?”_** He pauses for a beat, then huffs, **_“Get back to bed. No training tonight.”_**

Ichigo drags himself to his feet, cleans up, and shuffles back to his room.

 ** _“It’s_ not _okay,”_** is the last thing he hears before he falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

For the most part though, Ichigo keeps the state of his health underwraps pretty well. Isshin doesn’t notice - no surprise there - and he isn’t so bad off yet that he can’t grit his teeth against a wave of vertigo or a particularly bad migraine in front of his sisters until it passes or he’s alone again. And for the first several years since Yhwach robbed his powers, it doesn’t even happen that often. Symptoms of his deteriorating soul flare up maybe three or four times a week. The rest of the time, aside from living with some slow-to-heal bruises and achy joints, the latter of which might honestly just be puberty kicking in because he shoots up like a weed shortly after he turns twelve, he’s more or less fine.

In the meantime, Zangetsu trains him in their mindscape. The place is still a fragmented mess but it looks to be holding for now so Ichigo tries not to worry about it too much. He doesn’t have that kind of time to spare anyway because Zangetsu certainly doesn’t go easy on him in their training sessions.

Ichigo learns everything from Kidou to Shunpo from his spirit. He asks - at the beginning - how Zangetsu even knows this stuff. Zanpakutou techniques are one thing - that’s something every spirit teaches their wielder sooner or later - but Mom’s diary mentioned Kidou and Hohou as branches of combat specifically created by and for Shinigami.

That’s when he learns how White was made, and by whom - an experiment brought to life using countless souls of Shinigami sacrificed at the hands of a man named Aizen Sousuke.

“I dunno much more than that,” Zangetsu admits. “I have vague impressions of that Aizen guy being a crazy son-of-a-bitch, I think he was a Shinigami too, and he was the one who let White loose in the Human world, but that’s it.” He shrugs and nudges Ichigo back onto his feet for another round of fast-paced tag. “I got a lot of the knowledge from those Shinigami souls though. That’s how I know. And since I have it, we might as well use it.”

Some part of Ichigo feels queasy just thinking about it. A Hollow somehow created by killing a bunch of _people_. That’s just wrong. What kind of person even thinks _oh what will happen if I slaughter some Shinigami and make a Hollow out of them_ is a good idea to test out?

But there’s nothing he can do about it now, and Zangetsu is nothing if not practical about making Ichigo strong these days, so Ichigo does his best to move past it and focus on his spirit’s lessons. Zangetsu’s right about one thing - the knowledge is there, and it would be a waste to _not_ learn from it.

It’s fortunate Mom taught him how to swim a long time ago because Ichigo spends a lot of his early days getting dunked. Zangetsu has zero compunctions about knocking him into the water when they spar and laughing at him afterwards. The spirit never lets him drown but apparently he thinks Ichigo has more incentive to pick up Shunpo faster if he’s learning it on water.

Ichigo kind of wants to throttle him after the thirtieth time he falls in.

But he does get the hang of Hohou fairly quickly. It’s not that different from Hirenkyaku when it comes down to it. Ichigo’s biggest problem is his habit of automatically trying to draw on reishi instead of reiatsu, but even that’s trained out of him within a few months by Zangetsu.

He’s thirteen when he finally figures out how to materialize his Zanpakutou in the real world. The daitō gleams under the moonlight seeping through his curtains, pitch black with just a hint of crimson in the right light at the right angle, and Zangetsu practically radiates smug satisfaction inside him. It makes Ichigo feel like he’s sunk into a hot bath on a winter day but he doesn’t actually say that because Zangetsu sulks about the weirdest things.

Instead, he just grins fiercely down at his Zanpakutou, giddily proud of his achievement. It probably shouldn’t even be possible, to wield a Shinigami blade in a human body, but as Zangetsu likes to remind him, Ichigo’s never been normal.

 ** _“I think…”_** Zangetsu says slowly, like he’s contemplating something. **_“That was supposed to be your Bankai. But with the form I’ve taken, well.”_** Ichigo gets the mental impression of a shrug. **_“Even I don’t know what your Bankai will be now. But we’ll start working on that once you can draw your Zanpakutou out there without an hour of boring-ass meditation beforehand. Honestly, I thought I was gonna be an old man by the time you managed to make your sword appear.”_**

Ichigo rolls his eyes and lets the daitō fade away again in a flicker of black flames. “Well, you already have the hair to match.”

He flops back onto his bed and smothers a smirk in his pillow when he gets a muted cuff around the head.

**_“Brat. Why do I even put up with you.”_ **

Ichigo glances out his window at the crescent moon shining in the night sky. “Cuz you love me of course.” His hand curls around the phantom weight of his blade. Of _Zangetsu_ , trustworthy and dependable and there until the day he dies. “Thanks, Zan. I love you too.”

**_“...You’re such a fucking sap, I swear.”_ **

Ichigo snickers even as he pulls his blankets up and settles down for the night.

“Night, Zangetsu.”

**_“Go to sleep, little moon.”_ **

 

* * *

 

The girls are nine now. Karin pretend-smiles Isshin into signing a form that gives her permission to join her school’s soccer team. On the other hand, Yuzu joins the baking club, which doesn’t need parental permission but does need someone to help her carry cupcakes to school for bake sales. She tries not to look too relieved that she can ask Ichigo to do that with her.

Isshin hasn’t changed his routine in years. If anything, he’s gotten worse with the random beatings as Ichigo’s gotten better with dodging. For all that Zangetsu is an enthusiastic advocate of straightforward violence, he also has no qualms about using his superior speed against any opponent. Why get hit when you can evade the blow? Which means he's drilled that instinct into Ichigo as well.

Isshin doesn’t like it though. He laments over the fact that Ichigo rarely strikes back and fumes about wasted karate lessons. Ichigo doesn’t care even when the man tells him to quit since “they’re clearly not helping”. He and Tatsuki have drifted apart even if they do still see each other, and he outstripped everyone at the dojo a year ago, including the master. Even the natural disadvantage of being the shortest student there for the longest time disappeared when he hit his growth spurt.

As a result though, Isshin attacks him with even more frequency, and sometimes his blows still connect, but Ichigo’s learned to literally roll with most of them, and his sensory abilities are slowly improving so Isshin doesn’t always catch him off-guard anymore even when Zangetsu isn’t acting as his warning system. The worst moments are when Isshin happens to ambush him when Ichigo is on the brink of a coughing fit, or when he has a migraine so bad he can’t see straight. Those are the times he gets thrown into a wall, and Isshin always seems repulsively thrilled, taunting Ichigo about being too slow before strolling off, whistling cheerfully like he’s accomplished something.

Nothing pisses Zangetsu off faster. Ichigo thinks his spirit may actually hate Isshin as much as he hates Yhwach at this point.

And Ichigo can’t say Isshin doesn’t deserve it. Karin’s started referring to their father as Goat-Face. The first time she called him that, she froze right after, Yuzu looking terrified at her side, and Ichigo readied himself to jump in if it looked like Isshin might finally get mad at one of the girls for back-talking.

Isshin didn’t. He burst into tears, threw himself at Mom’s picture, and wailed about how his daughter didn’t love him anymore. The three of them stared for a long stunned moment before Karin made a disgusted sound and stormed off, Yuzu crept out after her, and Ichigo valiantly ignored the stabbing pain in his skull that only worsened with all the noise Isshin was making.

The man has been Goat-Face ever since. He never seems to truly register the fact that it’s an insult. On the milder side, yes, but Karin never calls him anything else anymore, and while Yuzu still uses ‘Dad’, Ichigo suspects that she only does it to keep him happy and oblivious to just how much his children dislike him. She’s always favoured subtlety more than her sister.

(Ichigo half-sighed and half-laughed when he found the makeshift dartboard of Isshin’s face in the girls’ bedroom. He told Karin to hide it better but didn’t tell her to get rid of it. Karin smirked unrepentantly at him while Yuzu muffled giggles.

He’s probably raising them wrong but at least they’re happy. That has to count for something, right?)

As for Ichigo, he hasn’t called Isshin anything out loud since Mom died, and he’s been ‘Isshin’ in Ichigo’s head for even longer. The man’s only saving grace is that he has yet to lay a finger on the twins. Otherwise, Ichigo would be burying his first body before he can even legally drink.

It’s not the best life. Aside from providing money and a roof over their heads so foster care doesn’t come knocking, Isshin really is a useless example of humanity. Or Shinigami. Whatever.

Yuzu carries a taser with her everywhere, one that Ichigo lifted from one of the yakuza gangs after he kicked their asses when they tried to threaten him, and she isn’t hesitant to use it, and even if Karin likes to ignore the supernatural things she can see, Ichigo makes sure she knows what to aim for if she ever gets cornered by a Hollow and he isn’t there.

He does his best by them. He doesn’t tell them everything, not the way his mother told him because he doesn’t want them to have to carry that burden (because he knows that knowledge _can_ be a burden now). He isn’t Kurosaki Masaki though, can’t replace their mother and doesn’t want to either, but he still worries about the day he’ll no longer be around to look out for them.

And Ichigo… well. He’s not quite at Zangetsu’s level yet but they spar more and Zangetsu teaches less every night. In terms of power, he’s only getting stronger. He took out his first Hollow with only a deadly spike of reiatsu alone just the other day.

But everything else about him is getting worse. He doesn’t need his battered mindscape or Zangetsu’s agitated pacing to tell him that. He can feel it. The headaches come more often. He gets aches in random parts of his body, especially the base of his neck, and he doubts it’s only from stress. He had to tell Yuzu that he might have caught a cold when he couldn’t speak for an entire day without his voice coming out like he coughed up half a lung, which wasn’t that far from the truth. And Karin watches him sometimes, dark-eyed, sharp-eyed, scowling in that way she has that makes her look angry but means she’s afraid, and Ichigo occasionally wonders if she suspects something.

It’s an odd dichotomy. He’s stronger now with his Shinigami and Hollow powers than he ever was with his Quincy ones, but at the same time, his body is breaking down, little by little, day by day. It’s a bit terrifying, if he’s honest, especially when he’s lying in bed at night, tired but in too much pain to sleep. Those are the times Zangetsu pulls him into their inner world and wraps himself around Ichigo, masked and clawed and more monster than not, as if that will keep Ichigo safe.

It’s not the best life. But Ichigo has his sisters and Zangetsu, and he thinks - for someone like him, a splintered soul living on borrowed time with no ambitions beyond killing a king - he’s still a pretty lucky guy after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Still no Kisuke, I know. He'll be showing up next chapter, I promise.


	4. Chapter 4

 

Ichigo has a love-hate relationship with Ishida Uryuu. Well, more like a neutral-hate relationship.

On one hand, he’s family. Not that that counts for much - Exhibit A: Isshin; Exhibit B: the Ishidas in general; Exhibit C: the Kurosakis who weren’t Mom - but the blood tie at least makes Ichigo keep an eye on him.

On the other, he’s an asshole. Nowhere near as much of an asshole as Isshin but that would take true dedication. He sneers at literally everybody though, including Ichigo, so at least Ichigo’s not special. He’s pretty sure Ishida doesn’t know they’re related, and if it was just snooty behaviour, Ichigo could ignore him or dismiss him as someone not worth knowing.

But it isn’t just that. Because Ishida Uryuu shouldn’t even be alive.

Ichigo’s kept an eye on the Ishidas since Mom was killed. So he knows that Katagiri Kanae died three months after Yhwach struck. She was Gemischt after all, and logically, that means her son - no matter how pure Ryuuken is - should be dead as well.

But Ishida Uryuu is alive and perfectly healthy. Ichigo knows the signs by now; he’s seen it enough times in his own mirror in recent years - the strain lines around the eyes, the lethargy, the coughing that leaves you with bruised ribs. Ishida shows none of those symptoms - and he shouldn’t anyway because he’s not half-Shinigami or half-Hollow, just baseline Quincy who has regular human in his family tree. Besides, Ichigo’s seen him around town, shooting down his own Hollows, so obviously, his powers were unaffected too.

It seeds resentment, just a little, even though Ichigo knows he isn’t being fair. But why does Ishida get to live when Ichigo’s mom had to die? What’s so damn special about Ishida? What makes him so much better that he deserved to live?

Ichigo always feels a bit guilty afterwards, when those thoughts creep in. It’s not like it’s Ishida’s fault for surviving, and the guy lost his mother too. If nothing else, Ichigo knows how difficult that is to live with.

But they don’t talk. Ishida’s not the type anyway, nor is Ichigo, to strike up random conversations with veritable strangers, and Ishidas in general make Ichigo wary. His mom’s diary made clear the kind of woman Ryuuken’s mother was, trying to force Mom to conform, and even the kind of man Ryuuken’s father was, more lenient but never speaking out against his wife. Even if Ryuuken was better than both his parents in that he wanted their marriage about as much as Masaki did and he helped save Masaki by leaving her with Isshin and Urahara, he still _left her with Isshin and Urahara_ and never checked up on her again.

Ichigo doesn’t hate him. Doesn’t even blame him overly much. But… well. Ishidas.

Best to stay clear.

(There’s a number in his phone though, copied from his mom’s diary. Maybe he’ll use it one day. Maybe he won’t.)

 

* * *

 

Aside from Tatsuki, and they barely even talk anymore, Ichigo does have people he hangs out with. He met Chad back in eighth grade, when Ichigo stepped in upon seeing one of the local gangs shoving the guy around.

Ichigo has a reputation in Karakura these days. Not even most yakuza dare to thrown down against him.

Chad’s followed him around ever since, whenever they’re at school. Ichigo supposes they’re friends in that they eat lunch together, pair up for projects together, and occasionally strike up conversations together. Ichigo appreciates his willingness to sit in comfortable silence.

Going by those standards, Ichigo supposes Keigo and Mizuiro are also his friends. He’s known them since the start of high school, and he’s fished them out of trouble more than once too. Their antics can be funny, and they’re mostly harmless despite how much of a pervert Keigo can be or how Mizuiro smiles at people sometimes like he’s annoyed by their very existence and wants them to disappear. They like _Ichigo_ for some reason, all three of them, and Ichigo likes them well enough in small doses.

The thing is though, since they spend all their breaks together, it makes hiding certain things from them even harder. He’s probably fortunate that they don’t quite seem to know how to ask about it because he’s pretty sure they’ve definitely noticed something off about him by now. He hides the chronic pain well - he’s been doing it for years, more and more often as his condition worsens with each passing day - but these guys see him almost every day, and even at their (Keigo’s) most irritating, Ichigo doesn’t have dumb friends. Not that kind of dumb anyway.

Like now. They’re on the roof, as per usual. Ichigo is lying in the shade Chad is casting, one arm draped over his eyes, and for all intents and purposes, he’s taking a nap because he’s bored. What he’s actually doing is counting to four with each inhale and exhale while trying to ignore the urge to throw up even though he hasn’t eaten a thing today and doesn’t have much of an appetite either. He had to pretend that he had an early-morning group meeting for a project to get to so Yuzu would let him leave without feeding him. He also woke up with a heavy pain in his chest as if someone’s exchanged his heart for a rock, and that hasn’t gone away yet which makes the mere act of breathing difficult.

Zangetsu is silent today.

His friends are quieter than usual too. Keigo and Mizuiro are arguing over some video game but they keep their voices pitched low in a way they never do unless Ichigo is feeling particularly bad. And Chad hasn’t shifted out of the direct line of the sun since he sat down.

Ichigo draws another breath, counting to four, then releases it on another four-count. His chest moves up and down with perfect steadiness.

None of them gets up until the bell rings.

 

* * *

 

Ichigo trains. He fights. He takes care of his sisters. He fends off his father’s attacks. He goes to school. He hangs out with his friends. He goes home.

He spends half a night dozing upright because he can’t lie down without setting off muscle spasms across the back of his shoulders.

He locks himself in a bathroom stall at school and doesn’t stop coughing until the toilet water is tinted pink, and even then he only grits his teeth and forces his lungs to cooperate because Mizuiro comes looking for him.

He starts carrying around packets of mints in his pocket.

He stumbles out of his bedroom after a restless night of sleep that’s left him exhausted and feeling like his head is stuffed with cotton, and he only narrowly escapes taking a diver down the stairs because Zangetsu bursts forward and forcibly seizes control of Ichigo’s limbs just long enough to roundhouse kick Isshin in the face when the man tries to shove Ichigo from behind. Zangetsu breaks his nose, and Isshin beams like the nutcase he is, garbling out around the blood, “Dat’s by son!”

Ichigo almost snaps his neck for that alone. The only bright side that comes from that stunt is Ichigo and Zangetsu’s little discovery, and from that point on, they start working on juggling control of Ichigo’s body between them.

(Zangetsu’s nothing if not a contrary bastard though. From that point on, no matter how much he wants to, when he’s in control of Ichigo’s body, he never lands another blow on Isshin, only ever evading. It frustrates and disappoints Isshin to no end, and both Zangetsu and Ichigo bask in it.

One day, they’ll kill him, or they’ll arrange something to get rid of him. But until then, messing with him will have to do.)

 

* * *

 

Ichigo is fourteen, almost fifteen.

He is living and dying and waiting for his chance to dethrone the king who dared to cut short a life that wasn’t his to take.

He hasn’t forgotten his mother’s history though, from girl to woman, pure to tainted, property to prisoner to corpse, and Yhwach and Isshin and even that Hollow - both Hollows - aside, he hasn’t forgotten who else had a hand in making her that way.

Ichigo is fourteen, almost fifteen, when he finally meets Urahara Kisuke.

 

* * *

 

It was only ever a matter of time before Ichigo met his first Shinigami. He didn’t think it would be in the form of a girl with black hair and purple eyes and a standard-looking black shihakushou, with a katana at her side, climbing through his window.

It’s lucky for her that Ichigo’s the one in the driver’s seat tonight. Zangetsu can’t take control for very long, and he usually only does when Ichigo needs the rest and reprieve. Staying in their mindscape usually mutes the pain, but at the same time, without Zangetsu actively there to hold the place together, their inner world tends to start falling apart at an even faster rate.

Zangetsu would’ve probably ripped her throat out for breaking in and for generally being a Shinigami to begin with. Their only experience with Shinigami are Isshin and what they’ve read about Urahara and even that Aizen character from the little that Zangetsu remembers, and not a single one of them is what you would call shining examples of humanity.

Ichigo though only looks up from the book he was idly flipping through, a Kidou spell stalling on his tongue. It’s been a good day today - he was able to keep all his meals down, and he wasn’t even tired after a full day of school - so he only arches an eyebrow upon hearing the girl muttering to herself about a Hollow she can’t find.

Well, that does make sense. Ichigo picked up the presence of a Hollow this morning and he’s had his reiatsu unfurled ever since, hoping to draw it to him. He’s baited Hollows like this before, so he wouldn’t have to run around tracking them down, but this one is proving particularly resilient. Usually, it only takes a few hours at most before the Hollows find him.

With the amount of reiatsu he’s let loose though, it’s no wonder the girl’s gotten turned around. She’s not wearing a badge or a haori so she can’t be a lieutenant or captain the way his mom’s diary described it, which means she’s probably not that strong. At the very least, Ichigo has more reiatsu than what he can sense from her right now.

She also lacks some serious situational awareness, Ichigo thinks idly as he watches the Shinigami wander around his room without remotely pretending he isn’t. The girl doesn’t seem to even suspect Ichigo can see her at all.

 ** _“How is she not dead yet?”_** Zangetsu scoffs, then gives the impression of cocking his head as they both sense the Hollow finally lumbering up the street. **_“Then again, she might be soon.”_**

 _‘You haven’t even seen her fight,’_ Ichigo admonishes with more than a little amusement.

 ** _“Don’t have to,”_** Zangetsu retorts. **_“She’s weak.”_**

Two minutes later, Zangetsu is proven to have impeccable judgement as Ichigo leans against his windowsill and watches the Shinigami get backhanded into a streetlight.

“She’s gonna die,” Ichigo mutters under his breath.

 ** _“Cry me a river,”_** Zangetsu snorts. **_“The Hollow’s not even that strong. This is just pathe-”_**

He breaks off abruptly, and Ichigo is instantly alert. “Zan?”

 ** _“Don’t look,”_** Zangetsu says sharply even as Ichigo feels him press forward. It’s as easy as breathing for Ichigo to step aside and share sight with him, and he knows if he were to look into a mirror, his left eye would be Zangetsu’s yellow-on-black. **_“Left, rooftop, two houses down. He’s hidin’ pretty well. I almost missed him. Shinigami.”_**

Ichigo doesn’t look. But he carefully stretches out his senses, searching for the presence Zangetsu noticed, and even knowing that there’s someone there, he still almost misses it.

He shifts his weight so that he’s leaning further out the window under the guise of paying more attention to the fight going on in the middle of the street even as Zangetsu sharpens their eyesight until - at the corner of one eye - they can just make out the flap of a coat and blond hair under a hat.

Unbidden, a memory surfaces, hazy and faint like a distant dream.

 _‘...I know that guy,’_ Ichigo thinks slowly. _‘I’ve seen him before, Zan. The first time I was sick, right after Mom died. You didn’t see him?’_

 ** _“I was a little busy trying to keep your soul from tearing itself apart,”_** Zangetsu snarks back without heat. **_“I didn’t pay attention to anything else. He came to the house?”_**

_‘Sort of. He was on my windowsill.’_

**_“...The fuck?”_** Zangetsu bites out. **_“Why are all Shinigami so fucking weird?”_**

Ichigo has no answer for that. ‘Weird’ for Zangetsu is basically synonymous to ‘not worth the air they breathe’, and Ichigo can’t disagree. It’s not like they’ve seen anything from Shinigami so far that might endear them to that race.

 ** _“Wait,”_** Zangetsu says suddenly. **_“Lean forward a bit more.”_**

Ichigo frowns but does as he’s told, leaning forward until he’s halfway out the window and handing more of their sight over to Zangetsu when he feels the insistent nudge, although not before more or less getting front-row seats to the Shinigami girl getting pummeled into the ground.

He kind of wants to cut in, if for no other reason than because that is just really sad. Why didn’t she bring backup? Or maybe the Shinigami on the roof is her partner?

 ** _“No,”_** Zangetsu refutes, and his voice comes out in a snarl. **_“That face. I know that face. That’s him, Ichigo. That’s Urahara.”_**

Ichigo blinks, and he gets a flash of grey eyes set in a pale face before his focus shifts to the fight again.

His hands go white-knuckled around the windowsill, and for a moment, he simply focuses on breathing.

Urahara is… a funny issue for them. Unlike Isshin, Ichigo has never even properly met the guy. Unlike Isshin, Urahara has never hit him for fun. Unlike Isshin, Urahara isn’t supposed to be his father and yet acts anything but. Unlike Isshin, Urahara didn’t marry Ichigo’s mom, swear vows to her, proclaim his love for her, _bed her_ , all to further some obscure goal that he never even had the decency to tell her about. It’s a lot easier to hate Isshin than Urahara.

But at the same time, Urahara is one of the reasons Ichigo’s mom is dead. Isshin is a lot of things but he’s not smart enough to hatch some convoluted plan all on his own just to get his hands on a powerful weapon baby. And if even Mom noticed that Urahara was the smart one despite only meeting him a couple times, there’s no way that man isn’t the mastermind behind it all.

Which means Urahara is the one responsible for planting just enough Hollow reiatsu in Masaki in order for Yhwach to forsake her. He probably didn’t know, he isn’t a Quincy, and Ichigo is logical enough to place the bulk of the blame for his mother’s death on Yhwach himself, but Urahara is still the one who used Masaki like a disposable chess piece, letting her get hurt by the one thing she would never have been able to recover from without becoming indebted to him, and bribing and blackmailing her into a relationship she didn’t want (because even if Masaki agreed in the end, she never would have if she had any other option but death, and that’s not true consent in any sense of the word).

Yhwach killed her because he thought Kurosaki Masaki was worthless, undeserving of anything but to act as a stepping stone in his plans.

Urahara used her for the same reason - he thought her worthless, undeserving of anything but to act as a vessel for the weapon he covets.

In the end, those two are not so different, and even if Ichigo’s never met Urahara Kisuke before, he can still find it in himself to hate this Shinigami too.

 

* * *

 

Ichigo does cut in, in the end. He doesn’t need a dead dead-girl on his front lawn, and she was struggling to contain the Hollow to the point where one of its limbs would’ve taken out a chunk of his house if Ichigo didn’t interfere.

It’s easy enough to wait for the girl - swaying on her feet with dangerously low reiatsu levels - to launch her last charge, dramatic battle cry and all, before lending her a subtle hand. Her Shikai is a dainty white blade, and Ichigo can feel the chill in the air from his bedroom. An ice-type. She jumps and aims for the Hollow’s mask, and either she doesn’t see - _how?_ \- the hand speeding towards her to swat her out of the air like a fly or she’s hoping it won’t get her before she gets it. Either way, Zangetsu spares a second to roll their eyes even as Ichigo makes a simple hand gesture and chants in their head, _‘Bakudou #1: Sai.’_

If both of the Hollow’s arms end up breaking as they’re wrenched violently to the side and yanked to the ground to pin the whole creature in place, then all the better for the girl as she successfully lands her blow and cracks the Hollow’s mask wide open.

Ichigo lingers long enough to see the girl’s exhausted look of disbelief mingled with relieved elation as the Hollow falls before he turns and shuts his window.

He ignores the eyes that follow him out of sight.

 ** _“He saw what you did,”_** Zangetsu remarks, retreating back to their mindscape. **_“Urahara. He’ll come poking around sooner or later.”_**

“Good,” Ichigo murmurs as he gets ready for bed. “I can hardly wait.”

A mirthless smile slices across his face, and Zangetsu’s cackle echoes inside his head.

 

* * *

 

Kisuke leaves his new Shinigami guest in the guestroom and returns downstairs with a frown.

Well, tonight certainly didn’t turn out remotely the way he hoped it would. The situation is still salvageable of course - he’s nothing if not adaptable - but…

Standing in the hall, the phone to his ear, he waits three rings before the call is answered, and Isshin’s impatient voice asks, _“Well? Did it work? I even planted Hollow bait in my daughters’ room so it should've gone directly for them but it didn’t even hit the house.”_

Kisuke spares a moment to wonder if Isshin even hears the things that come out of his mouth sometimes. It’s not even that Kisuke is against using someone as bait, but there is such a thing as overkill.

“I was already herding it around all day,” He reminds Isshin. “Besides, your son’s reiatsu levels would have attracted it easily enough when I finally let it out to hunt.”

Isshin snorts. _“That’s not reliable. Ichigo’s subconscious control comes and goes. And anyway, there’s no guarantee he would’ve cut in for some random Shinigami on patrol. He has no confrontation instincts. Trust me, I’ve tried everything I could to drill them into him but the boy just runs away. Yuzu and Karin are about the only ones he’d jump in to protect.”_

Kisuke… isn’t going to touch any of that with a ten-foot pole. It’s none of his business anyway, and he has no desire to make it his business either.

“Yes, well,” He says instead. “As a matter of fact, your son did intervene for the Shinigami, shortly before she would have been overpowered.”

_“Did she give him her powers?”_

“I’m afraid not,” Kisuke replies carefully. “There wasn’t any need. Your son provided enough of a distraction-” _If you can call a Kidou spell he shouldn’t even know a mere distraction._ “-for Kuchiki-san to finish it off.”

_“Well damn. So now what?”_

“I have already given Kuchiki-san the gigai. She was injured during the battle and will need time to recuperate before returning to Soul Society.”

_“And Ichigo?”_

“I’ll start keeping an eye on him. I’m sure Kuchiki-san will want to know more about the Human who saved her life.”

_“He’s useless without Shinigami powers, Kisuke.”_

“He’s still half-Shinigami. Worst comes to worst, I can detach his soul from his body and introduce him to his powers that way. It might be a bit of a shock to his system but he’ll survive.” He hesitates for the briefest fraction of a second before segueing smoothly, “Speaking of which, I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about teaching him yourself?”

 _“That’s your job, isn’t it? I’ve done mine. He has decent defensive reflexes, even if he is a disgrace to the Shibas when it comes to an actual fighting style. He never stands his ground.”_ Isshin sounds distinctly disgusted at this. _“You’ll have to beat that into him if he’s to fight Aizen. Otherwise, he might just run away from that too, and then we’ll all be screwed.”_

Kisuke hums noncommittally. No mention of teaching his son Kidou. He could be hiding it, but Isshin wouldn’t know subtlety if it hit him with a sledgehammer.

He probes one more time, “And his lineage? His family history? He might be more agreeable to lending his aid if you told him about yourself or even Masaki-san-”

 _“I already said no,”_ Isshin insists as obstinately as he always has. _“He doesn’t need to know any of that stuff.”_

So Isshin really hasn’t told him anything. Not that Kisuke’s surprised by that, but then, if not from Isshin, where did Ichigo learn how to pull off a Kidou spell? The most basic Bakudou known to Shinigami it may be, but perfectly executed and even _improvised_ for maximum effect.

“Very well,” Kisuke says out loud. “I’ll convince Kuchiki-san to enroll in his school tomorrow.”

 _“Good,”_ Isshin grunts. _“Maybe you’ll have better luck training him once he gets a real dose of danger.”_

He hangs up, and Kisuke does the same. For a long moment, he stands in the dark hallway, absently tugging at the brim of his hat.

So it begins. And yet…

And yet the first step in Kisuke’s plans to fold a Shinigami-Quincy-Hollow hybrid into the Shinigami world… well actually, that started a long time ago, but the first step to train that hybrid up as much as possible before pointing him at Aizen someday soon has already gone awry.

It isn’t a big thing, certainly nowhere near irreparable. But something about it makes Kisuke uneasy anyway, something he can’t put his finger on, an old instinct rearing its head at the back of his mind and warning him that this is more than just a minor setback.

He does his best to set his concerns aside. There’s no point. He’s been walking this path for a century, paving it for decades, and there’s no turning back now.

Kurosaki Ichigo has his secrets, it seems. Kisuke will just have to figure them all out and either incorporate them into his plans if they prove useful or mitigate the damage if they don’t.

Besides, the boy’s not even fifteen yet, with no real knowledge of what he can do or what the world he was born into is really like, even if he does know a Kidou spell or two. Isshin made sure of that. As long as Kisuke introduces himself at the right time, in the right way, he’ll be able to guide Ichigo into the role he’ll have to play when Aizen finally makes his move.

Kisuke’s dealt with everything from assassination missions to captaincy to betrayal and exile and Hollowfied Shinigami. Compared to that, how difficult can wrangling one Human-raised boy possibly be?

 

* * *

 

Ichigo meets Kuchiki Rukia the very next day. She transfers into his class looking like any other high-schooler, albeit a short one, and takes the seat beside him. He can feel her staring even when he spends half the class staring out the window.

 ** _“Laundry duty-”_** Because they both hate folding clothes but it’s their turn this week so they usually find the time to either rock-paper-scissor the chore between them or wager it. **_“-says that Urahara sent her our way.”_**

“That’s a sucker’s bet,” Ichigo mutters as he exits the restroom, fumbling for a mint as he heads up to the roof to meet up with his friends for lunch. “No way.”

Zangetsu harrumphs, and they both roll their eyes when they hear rapid footsteps approaching them from behind. Her reiatsu levels are about as low as they were yesterday at the end of the battle, and muted in a way that probably means she’s suppressing it.

“Kurosaki! Stop!”

 ** _“Rude much?”_** Zangetsu mutters.

 _‘You’re ruder,’_ Ichigo shoots back fondly and feels Zangetsu’s grin pull at his own lips.

Ichigo turns, raising an eyebrow as the Shinigami - she really is small - comes to a halt in front of him, something both determined and wary painting her features.

“Yeah?” He prompts when she doesn’t say anything else right away.

Kuchiki straightens to her full height, which isn’t saying much. She’s got to be at least a foot shorter than him.

“You saw me last night,” She begins. “Fighting the Hollow.”

Ichigo shrugs. “Yeah. Before that too, when you climbed through my window and into my bedroom.”

The Shinigami looks slightly taken aback, as if she wasn’t expecting Ichigo to straight-up admit it, and then she flushes as his words catch up with her.

“I was doing my job!” She protests, looking embarrassed and indignant at the same time. “Why were you exuding so much reiatsu anyway? It was getting in the way!”

 ** _“Good lord,”_** Zangetsu mutters. **_“Rude_ and _an idiot. It’s not like a regular Human would be able to control their reiatsu.”_**

And then Kuchiki takes a breath. “But I apologize for intruding,” She mutters. “I was not aware you had enough reiryoku to see me.”

 ** _“So it would be okay if we couldn’t see her?”_** Zangetsu continues grousing, and Ichigo has to hide a smile.

“It’s fine,” He says out loud, already turning away. “No harm done. See you around I guess.”

“Wait!”

Ichigo glances back.

“You helped me fight that Hollow,” Kuchiki accuses. “I thought it was strange, the way it moved at the end. I was made aware that you were the one who held it down with a Bakudou spell.”

Ichigo shrugs again. “Maybe I was. What about it? You looked like you needed a hand.”

Kuchiki grimaces but doesn’t refute the assessment. Instead, she demands, “How do you know Kidou in the first place? You’re Human! Having high levels of reiryoku is one thing but Kidou is a Shinigami skill!”

“Shinigami? Is that what you guys are?” Ichigo waves a dismissive hand. “I’ve seen your kind around before, and I saw a few of them use… Kidou? I just copied it from them.”

Not entirely a lie. Not entirely the truth either, but judging by Kuchiki’s expression, she believes him, if not entirely than at least willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I’ve never seen a Human use Kidou before,” She says slowly, eyeing him like he’s some foreign specimen that may or may not be dangerous.

 ** _“We’re special snowflakes,”_** Zangetsu supplies snidely.

“How many Humans have you met?” Ichigo enquires instead, and that seems to convince Kuchiki a little more.

“Well, I think it’s technically illegal for Humans to interfere in Shinigami matters...” She trails off uncertainly, and in Ichigo’s mindscape, Zangetsu immediately loses all sense of humour in the situation, mask coming down in a ripple of black shadows even as he goes stone-still, watching the Shinigami through Ichigo’s eyes with a predator’s calculation, poised to attack.

“...but you don’t know our laws so it wouldn’t be fair to judge you by them,” She decides under her breath, and Ichigo idly wonders if she’ll ever realize how close she was to getting her throat torn out and her body dumped in a ditch somewhere.

She peers up at him again before announcing, “This is fortunate, actually. I am still recovering from yesterday’s battle so I can’t fight right now. The Hollows can’t be allowed to roam free, and since you already know something about a Shinigami’s job, even if you aren’t one yourself, you can help me with my patrols!”

Ichigo stares at her for a long moment. And then, “No thanks.”

“What- Hey! Wait! At least let me explain our duties- Kurosaki!”

 

* * *

 

Kuchiki ends up following him up to the roof, where Keigo immediately makes eyes at her and Mizuiro declares that he only goes for older women but also side-eyes Kuchiki like he’s debating the best way to trip her down the stairs when they head back to class later.

It’s one of those days for Mizuiro, and coupled with the way he stares at the slight tremors plaguing Ichigo’s hands today that Ichigo can’t hide no matter how much both he and Zangetsu try to suppress them, he’s really not surprised that Mizuiro looks about ready to launch Kuchiki into the sun by the time the bell rings when she wouldn’t stop giving Ichigo annoyingly pointed looks all through lunch break.

Chad only takes one look at the situation and sits himself down between Ichigo and Kuchiki. It doesn’t stop her from peering around him at Ichigo but it does make it harder for her.

Of course, then school ends, and Ichigo finds himself stuck with a tag-along as he makes his way home. They’re not even halfway before she’s already given him a crude summary of what a Shinigami is, what a Hollow is, why the latter has to be purified by the former, and how important the job is.

“Look,” Ichigo sighs when it doesn’t look like she’s going to stop pestering him anytime soon. “I’m a teenager. What do I care about any of that stuff?” He ignores the irked look of disapproval now aimed at him. “If you want me to do your job for you,” The offended expression on Kuchiki’s face is gold. “You’re gonna have to give me something in exchange.”

He turns and starts walking again, leaving the Shinigami practically steaming from her ears. She doesn’t follow him after that.

**_“Think it worked?”_ **

Ichigo offers a mental shrug. _‘Who knows? Guess it depends on how important she thinks her job is.’_

He pauses in front of his house, glancing back the way they came. _‘Did you sense that Hollow?’_

 ** _“Obviously,”_** Zangetsu grumbles. **_“Weak-ass one too, but we’ll have to get rid of it anyway. It was hanging around in the direction of the girls’ favourite cake shop.”_**

Ichigo nods to himself and makes a note to head there first when he makes his rounds tonight.

 

* * *

 

 _‘I can’t decide if she thinks her job is important or not,’_ Ichigo remarks as Kuchiki corners him in the morning as he’s walking to school, money in hand. _‘Hell, I can’t decide if she thinks_ she’s _important or not, cuz whoever pays her sure as hell doesn’t.’_

“You get paid 2600 yen a day to risk your life on the regular?” Ichigo asks dubiously.

Rukia glowers, cheeks red. “Soul Society doesn’t use yen, we use kan. But Urahara-san-” She doesn’t notice the way Ichigo’s eyes narrow. “-another Shinigami stationed here, one I’m staying with at the moment, he converted it for me so this should be right. I guess it might not be much by your Human standards but Shinigami get a lot of benefits for free so we don’t need as much money to live. And I’m only an unseated officer. We don’t get sent out that often so our pay reflects that.”

She’s still red in the face, but her shoulders hunch a little, less embarrassed and more ashamed at the mention of her rank, and Ichigo heaves a sigh.

 ** _“Fucking bleeding heart,”_** Zangetsu growls. **_“You better not refuse the money. Even if it is pocket change compared to what we need. But every bit counts.”_**

Ichigo takes the money. “Fine. I will do your patrols for you and purify anything you want me to purify and risk my life for your job. For 2600 yen a day.”

Kuchiki breathes a sigh of relief. Ichigo should probably feel guilty for accepting payment like this, but he _will_ be doing her job for her, so fair’s fair. Besides, by the sounds of it, Urahara is giving her room and board so it’s not like she’s living on the streets.

He’s much more interested in what she implied when she mentioned Urahara being “another Shinigami stationed here”.

She probably would have said ‘my colleague’ or ‘the other Shinigami on patrol here’ if Urahara was sent here with her from Seireitei. But ‘stationed here’ implies…

 ** _“Don’t fucking tell me Urahara’s been living in our town all this fucking time,”_** Zangetsu all but spits out.

 _‘If he doesn’t answer to the Gotei 13,’_ Ichigo muses. _‘If he doesn’t have anyone to report to, if he doesn’t even have a job, it explains how he was always in the right place at the right time to make sure my mom did what he wanted.’_

“We can start after school,” Kuchiki is telling him, and she brightens a little as she continues, “Don’t worry, I’ll show you what to do. What Kidou do you know?”

Ichigo glances at her expectant face.

 ** _“Show her a few low-level ones only,”_** Zangetsu reminds him.

Ichigo inwardly rolls his eyes even as he resigns himself to putting up with a Shinigami for the foreseeable future.

It’s a small price to pay to ensure he and Urahara will meet, soon.

 

* * *

 

The next several days are spent running around with Kuchiki, purifying any Hollows that pop up on a device she has called a denreishinki. Honestly, it looks and works a lot like a cell phone so Ichigo’s not sure why the Shinigami don’t just call it that, but whatever. She gets paid on that as well, for the bounties they collect whenever Ichigo purifies a Hollow, but Ichigo refrains from asking for that money too, even if it does make Zangetsu grumble.

The device is certainly handy, although it gets a bit tedious, having to run from one corner of town to the other to confront a Hollow when his usual strategy is usually sneaking out and stretching his senses as far as he can, honing in on any Hollows in the area before using his reiatsu to draw them to him. Less risk of someone catching sight of him and possibly dropping a word to his father if they happen to recognize him. As it is, with Kuchiki dragging him around all over the place almost every day as soon as school ends until dinnertime, he’s surprised nobody’s gotten suspicious about it yet.

Then again-

“So I hear you’ve got yourself a little girlfriend, Ichigo!” Isshin booms with a wide obnoxious grin one late evening. “You should invite her over to stay the night sometimes! It’s healthy for growing boys to get some stress relief, you know! And you don’t want her to feel neglected, do you?”

That’s around the time Ichigo tunes him out. Karin was barely listening in the first place, and the waggling eyebrows has her concentrating even more intensely on her phone like she’s hoping if she stares long enough, she’ll fall in through the screen and won’t have to put up with Goat-Face anymore. Yuzu on the other hand is copying down a recipe and adding in her own improvisations to it. She doesn’t look up either but she presses too hard for a moment and the lead in her pencil snaps, leaving her with an excuse to head upstairs early. Karin looks like she seriously wants to duck out too but she glances at Ichigo and stays put.

Sometimes, Isshin doesn’t hit Ichigo if one of the girls is in the room.

 ** _“Why does the age of majority in Japan have to be twenty?”_** Zangetsu complains. **_“We do most of the work in this house anyway. We could’ve moved out, adopted the girls, and killed this fucker years ago, and we would’ve been fine.”_**

 _‘Except for the money part,’_ Ichigo retorts dryly.

**_“I told you to rob the yakuza who tried to fuck with us. Not my fault you’re a goody-two-shoes at the strangest moments.”_ **

_‘I just don’t want criminals knocking down my door in the future cuz they want their money back. Besides, I robbed some of them!’_

**_“Not even a dozen. And that’s cuz I was the one behind the wheel, so really,_ I _robbed some of them, not you.”_**

Ichigo mentally flips him off, finishes stashing the last of the dirty plates in the dishwasher, and then dries his hands. Karin’s on her feet as soon as she notices he’s done, and they both scoot out of the kitchen as their father makes a beeline for their mom’s picture, wailing about how his kids have abandoned him.

Yeah, they wish.

 

* * *

 

It takes a week before he finally meets Urahara Kisuke face to face. Kuchiki tells him about a shop - the Urahara Shouten, and Ichigo can’t _believe_ he’s never heard of this place before, although to be fair, Karakura isn’t _that_ small, and the shop is clear across town from his house. Kuchiki says Urahara approached her after the battle with that first Hollow and gave her a gigai to use while she recovers from her injuries.

“I have to pick up some supplies,” She explains next. “He was the one who told me about how you helped me against Fishbone D, so he already knows about you, and he sorted out the money issue for me too. I even checked my denreishinki for information about him, and apparently he oversees this town, although I’m not sure if he’s an actual Shinigami officer or not.” She glances contemplatively at him. “Do you know him? Since he’s been here for so long.”

Ichigo shakes his head. “I don’t.”

_He mapped out half my mom’s life like a twisted road trip to childbirth._

_He helped kill her, and even if he didn’t mean to do that, he didn’t give a damn about her either._

_He’s one of the people I’m going to watch as they bleed out on my blade._

“But I can’t wait to meet him. He sounds like an interesting guy.”

 

* * *

 

Kisuke meets them at the door, Kuchiki first, and then Kurosaki Ichigo, in all his orange-haired, secretly-Kidou-wielding glory. Kuchiki greets him briskly before hurrying over to his wares, already starry-eyed at the new Chappy merchandise that’s just come in.

It’s Ichigo whom Kisuke watches though.

“Good afternoon, Urahara-san,” Ichigo dips his head in a shallow bow. “Kuchiki asked me to come along today. Sorry for the intrusion.”

Kisuke snaps out his fan even as he beams airily over the edge of it. “Not at all! It’s always nice to see new potential customers. And from what I hear, you’ve been helping out Kuchiki-san quite a bit.”

Ichigo shrugs carelessly. “It’s nothing. She’s paying me after all.”

“Nevertheless, it’s good of you to look out for her while she’s here. If you need any help yourself, please don’t hesitate to come to me. I may only be a humble shop owner these days but I’m always happy to lend a hand.”

A pause. Their eyes meet, and for just a fraction of a second, Ichigo’s reiatsu slips its leash, unconsciously perhaps, and snaps through the air between them, there and gone in half a heartbeat. If Kisuke wasn’t already holding Benihime, he would’ve reached for her instinctively.

Ichigo just smiles mildly at him, eyes glittering under the dim lights of the shop. “Thanks, Urahara-san. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Kisuke smiles back and nods and watches as Ichigo wanders off to join Kuchiki. His hand remains tight around the handle of his hidden Zanpakutou.

He wonders why he feels as if someone just tried to rip his throat out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Next chapters will come a little slower but they're coming.  
> 2) On a completely unrelated note - Washington Capitals won!!!! Ovechkin finally wins his first Stanley Cup!!! I'm so happy =D


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